


After the Storm

by stjarna



Series: Season 4 - Coda Challenge [29]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Healing, Post-Framework, hopeful, season 4, spec fic, the end is really fluffy 'cause I need fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 21:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10862898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Yet another post-Framework fic, 'cause I just can't help myself.The two chapters could theoretically work as two separate fics, but I liked them better in combo :)





	1. Night has always pushed up day

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter titles taken from “After the Storm” by Mumford and Sons
> 
> (I swear I was trying to come up with a non-Mumford-and-Sons title. I _swear_!)

He’s leaning against the brick wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring out of the window in the oh-so-familiar corner of the base.

Jemma feels a certain sense of déjà vu at the sight.

Only their roles are reversed.

This time _he_ is the one who is lost. He is the one who’s broken. Or _more_ broken. He is the one being eaten by guilt and fear. _His_ soul has been ripped to shreds by something no one should ever have to experience.

This time it’s _her_ finding _him_. This time it’s _her_ trying to push the night away and bring _him_ hope.

She stops right next to him and notices how his body immediately tenses from her presence. She bites her lower lip, trying to let physical pain overpower her emotional agony. She squints her eyes to keep the tears at bay.

He’d been hesitant to allow her to be close to him ever since they’d returned a few days ago; had been hesitant to even look her in the eye.

Jemma knows that it’s guilt. Two lifetimes’ worth of guilt that he’s somehow fighting. Or rather, _not_ fighting.

He’s letting it consume him. The memories of who he’d been forced to become in the Framework have been eating him alive and it shows. It shows in the way his skin looks ashen, in the way his eyes are sunken in, dull, missing the mischievous spark that used to brighten them. It shows in the way his clothes hang so loosely around his body, it looks like they belong to somebody else.

In a way he probably thinks that’s true.

He doesn’t think Fitz exists anymore. He thinks he’s always been The Doctor, and Jemma’s been unable to find the right words to make him see differently, to make him see himself through _her_ eyes, through _everybody_ else’s eyes.

All that seems left are the memories of someone he would have never chosen to be.

He’d been hesitant to allow her to be close to him. He’d been hesitant to allow her to touch him. But today, she dares place her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

When his eyes close at her touch and the corner of his mouth twitches barely noticeably, Jemma allows herself to smile.

“You know I love you?” His voice is nothing but a faint whisper, and yet it echoes in Jemma’s heart like an entire opera come to life. He turns his head to look at her with teary, blue eyes. “I will _always_ love you.”

His confession makes her courageous and she reaches for his cheek with her free hand, her fingers absentmindedly massaging his neck as she smiles at him. “I do know that.” She sighs. “And I love you, too, Fitz. I didn’t even know that it’s possible to love someone that much. But I _do_. I love you and _nothing_ will change that.”

His eyes shimmer sadly behind a thin curtain of tears and the air escaping through his nostrils stutters nervously. “How can you? What I did? Who I was? Who I _am_? I’ve _always_ been that person, Jemma. Evil. Bad. That… that was _me_ and don’t tell me it _wasn’t_ , ‘cause I know! I _know_ that was me making those decision, hurting people, killing people, hurting Radcliffe and Daisy... hurting _you_!”

She doesn’t mean to smile, doesn’t mean to make it look like she’s belittling his worries. She shakes her head. “Oh, Fitz. Yes, that was you.”

He squints, trying to turn his head away, but Jemma gently guides him back in her direction and slowly he opens his eyes again, staring at her in fear.

“The Doctor _was_ you, but a _very_ different version of you, Fitz. A version of you whose life had been altered from the moment you were born and pulled into a completely different direction. It’s like twins being separated at birth and raised under completely different circumstances.”

He scoffs discontentedly. “So what, he was my evil twin?”

“In a sense.”

“But what little scientific evidence there is from twin studies suggests that genes play a major role in the developments of personalities, interests, attitudes. So, even with that theory, Jemma, the way I acted, what I did, who I was in there… that _was_ me! My genes. My personality. _Me!_ ”

He exhales sharply, reaching for her wrist and breaking the physical bond she’d established. His eyes are full of pain and doubt and Jemma wishes she could reach into his mind and pick out those horrific memories one by one to free him from the tight grasp of self-reproach.

But since there is no easy way out, no surgery for a quick fix for his bleeding soul, Jemma gathers her determination and channels it elsewhere: honesty, truth, facts.

“Yes, that was you, Fitz.” She shrugs. “The Doctor had _many_ of your traits, but those were not necessarily _bad_ traits. He cared for those he loved. He was loyal to what he believed in.”

Fitz shakes his head in disbelief. “But caring for _her_ , being loyal to _Hydra_? I _hurt_ people because of that! I _killed_ people! I almost killed _you_ , Jemma.”

He almost yells the last words and somehow Jemma can’t help but reply in a volume and an intensity to match his.

“That was your reality, Fitz. That was your _world_! And Daisy and I tried to destroy it. Daisy hurt the woman you loved. _I_ killed the man who raised you. You _loved_ them and we hurt them! What if that had been here?” She throws her arms to the side, gesturing around the empty hallway. “What if that had been here, Fitz? When the monolith took me, did you stop? Did you stop trying to find out the truth and bring whatever had taken me to justice? Or what if someone killed your mum? Tried to destroy your world? Would you stop until you’d brought them to justice?”

“But it _wasn’t_ about bringing them to justice,” he screams in her face and she feels like the guilt has grabbed hold of another piece of his soul, ready to eat it alive. “It was about seeing them _suffer_! Seeing Radcliffe suffer. Daisy. _You!_ I wanted you to _suffer_! How can you still _defend_ me?”

His voice breaks, his breath shallow and ragged. He closes his eyes as a lonely single tear makes way for an entire river. He covers his eyes, his body shaking with sobs.

“How can you still defend me?” he repeats, his voice wavering and broken.

Jemma wipes away her own tears, taking a step closer and curling her hand around his neck, slowly pulling his chin up. She waits, her fingers carefully stroking his stubble and eventually he lowers his hand and opens his eyes.

Gone is the urge to yell she’d felt moments ago when he’d refused to listen to her arguments. Instead her voice remains soft and calm, without losing her determination. “Because even though The Doctor was you and The Doctor was responsible for the choices he made, those were still _not_ your choices, Fitz.”

“How?” His eyes are pleading with her for an answer.

She can’t help but allow the corner of her mouth to tick into a brief smile. “Because no matter how much AIDA wanted you to believe that all she did was change _one_ regret in your life and the rest was all _your_ responsibility that’s simply not true.”

Jemma shakes her head. “She didn’t give you a choice when she kidnapped you and replaced you with an LMD. She didn’t give you a choice when she put you in the Framework. She didn’t let you choose the regret that she fixed. You were _robbed_ of your choices, Fitz! You would have _never_ chosen to have your father back in your life, to abuse you, to raise you into the man _he_ wanted you to be. You _never_ chose that! On the contrary, Fitz. You chose _not_ to search for your father even though you had the resources to do so.”

She lets her words sink in and wonders if she’s imagined the slight shift in the way he looks at her, a little less sad, a little more believing.

“That’s the choice _you_ made, Fitz. That’s the choice that put you on the path you are _really_ on! That’s one of the many wise and brilliant and _good_ choices _you, yourself,_ have made in _your_ life. You have the same loyalty, the same ability to _care_ and _love_ that The Doctor had, Fitz! But your _choices_ made you a good person! You _are_ a good person, Fitz, and quite frankly, the fact that you are _so_ worried and _so_ convinced that you’re bad right now is just one more reason why I _know_ you are _not_! You are _not_ a bad person!”

“But it was me.” His voice is a whimper.

Jemma presses her lips together, trying to suppress a smile. She nods ever so slightly. “Yes, it was, Fitz. And when I tried to kill Ward, tried to throw a splinter bomb into his back, that was _me_. That was _my_ Doctor. We _all_ have that side, Fitz. _Everyone_. But your _choices_ are what matter. Your choices _here_. In _this_ world. Where _all_ choices are your own!”

There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips, a hint maybe even of hope.

“You’ve seen my dark side, Fitz. My tirades against Inhumans when we first encountered them. Being eaten up by the idea of revenge. You know what I did to Bakshi. Does that make you love me less?”

He shakes his head. “‘Course not.”

Jemma lets out a quiet laugh. “Well, there you have it. I _love_ you, Fitz.”

One corner of his mouth twitches, as if his body wants to smile but his mind won’t let him. “Despite my dark side?”

She can’t help but chuckle, pressing her palm a little bit more firmly against his cheek. “ _Because_ of it, Fitz! Because _you_ —like everyone else— _have_ a dark side, but you fight it every single day. And you _beat_ it. Every. Single. Day.”

He looks nervously back and forth between her eyes and her lips and it’s the only encouragement Jemma needs to pull his face closer and let her lips gently brush against his.

He leans his forehead against hers, breathless despite the briefness of their kiss. Jemma feels a tear drop from his cheek onto hers and her lips catch it, drinking his pain away.

Jemma opens her eyes when she feels the sun warming her face, but the feeling is nothing compared to the warmth emanating from the shy smile on his face and the hopeful look in his eyes. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and for the first time in days, Jemma feels like there’s no hesitation in his movements.

“It’s weird,” he says, barely above a whisper. “When we watched the sunrise together after you returned from Maveth, everything was so—” He pauses, struggling to find the right words. “Complicated between us. With Will. And your messages. Talking ‘bout Perthshire. I had no idea where our story would go from there, and yet, I loved every second of that moment. I was happy and hopeful and—”

“I felt the same. Except, I knew _exactly_ what I wanted and was too afraid that I didn’t deserve it.”

Fitz scoffs, somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. “That sounds like me right now.”

She smiles, her fingers absentmindedly playing with his stubble. “I deserved what I wanted, Fitz. I deserved you. And you should not have any ounce of doubt in your mind about whether you deserve me or not. You _do_! We deserve to be together. And right now, we are the _only_ people who could get in the way of that.”

His eyes are serious, but they’ve lost much of their sad shimmer. “Do you still think about it?”

“Of course I do. Now more than ever.”

He shrugs. “What do you think we should do about it?”

She chuckles, her eyes briefly wandering back to look at the rising sun outside, which bathes his face in an orange glow. She turns back to face him, cupping his face with both hands. “We heal. Together. I help you. You help me. And whenever you’re ready, I’ll be ready too. And our future will be there waiting.”


	2. There will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears

He stands in front of the lab bench, staring down at the intricate pieces of tech lying neatly organized on the flat surface. They’re blurry, distorted by the tears clouding his vision.

He doesn’t flinch when he feels her hand on his shoulder. Instead, he intuitively reaches up to cover her hand with his, his lips unable to hide a smile.

She squeezes his shoulder and he lets his fingers gently glide up and down her hand.

“It’s weird,” he whispers. “Few years ago, I couldn’t work ‘cause my hands were trembling. I _physically_ couldn’t work. And it made me so frustrated. So bloody frustrated. And now, my hands are trembling ‘cause I can’t _mentally_ bring myself to work. And I’m scared. So bloody scared.”

He scoffs, turning his head far enough to look into her eyes. “At least this time around you’re not a hallucination.”

She lets out a quiet chuckle and he can’t help but smile himself, because there’s nothing quite like the sound of her laughter to make his soul pull itself a little further out of the dark pool of fear and guilt that it’s been stuck in for the past five months.

“You got over your _physical_ challenges with time, determination, a good physical therapist, _and_ support. And you’ll get over your _mental_ challenges as well. With time. Determination. A good therapist. _And_ support.”

He leans down, savoring the taste of her lips, their softness and warmth, before resting his forehead against hers, wishing he could read her thoughts.

“I love you, Fitz.”

He wonders if maybe she heard his. Her breath mingles with his as she continues to whisper. “I will _always_ love you, Fitz. I will _always_ be by your side and we’ll work through things together.”

His eyes are still closed and his mind feels like it’s in a dream he never wants to wake up from, and yet he knows that this is real, somehow this is real and she’s _here,_ promising him a future; not a happily ever after, but _more_ than that, _better_ than that, a forever after no matter what.

He inhales slowly, hoping his voice will be strong enough to break through the sound of his anxious heartbeat.

“Will you marry me?”

He opens his eyes when his question makes her pull her head away in surprise.

Her eyes are wide, but there’s a smile playing on her lips. “ _Now?_ You’re asking me _now_?”

All he manages is a shrug and a sheepish grin.

And then it bubbles to the surface, a laugh so bright and happy and joyful that Fitz feels like the sun is rising in the middle of their underground lab. She cups his face and her eyes sparkle as she kisses him. Once. Twice. Again and again. Eventually he stops counting.

“Is that a yes?” he manages to ask in between their mix of kisses and laughter.

“Yes,” she exclaims. “Of course it’s yes!”

He’s not sure how long they stand there, smiling, kissing. He’s not sure how many times he lifts her up and twirls her around as if he’s drunk on love. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s sure it doesn’t matter.

Until he remembers.

He puts her down, his chest heaving up and down excitedly, his heart racing with happiness. He raises one finger. “Could you wait here for just a moment?”

She stares at him in surprise, a confused “Umm?” escaping her lips.

He turns around and rushes out the door, down the corridor, around the corner. He swings the door open and falls to his knees in front of the bottom drawer of their dresser. He pulls out his clothes, leaving them scattered on the floor, until he finds the small box at the back, tucked in between t-shirts he hasn’t worn in years. He scrambles up and runs back to the lab, almost knocking over Daisy and Coulson, but ignoring their concerned calls behind his back.

When he finally stumbles back into the lab, back to where Jemma is still rooted to the spot, his lungs frantically search for air as he stands slightly bent over, his hands resting on his knees.

“What on earth just happened?” Her hand rests on his back and he can hear a chuckle in her tone, reassuring him that he’s not completely freaked her out by darting off into the unknown.

He takes one more deep breath before straightening up. He turns his hand to reveal the small box in his palm, noticing how his hand trembles almost as fast as his heart beats when he opens it.

Her gaze falls to the ring. She seems shellshocked for a moment, until her lips pull into a wide smile. “You have a ring?”

He shrugs. “Thought about it for a while. Was too nervous to do it though.” He chuckles shyly. “Had something a bit more romantic in mind, too. Restaurant. Dinner. Stargazing. Dunno. Something more than this, but… but maybe—”

She looks up and her eyes beam so brightly that Fitz feels like if heaven existed, he’d just caught a glimpse of it. “Oh, Fitz.” Her head is slightly tilted to the side and her fingers gently graze his cheek. “Don’t you realize how perfect this is? Look where we are.”

He allows his eyes to wander across the room, over glass beakers, microscopes, tools, chemicals, monitors, until they find her again and he can see their past, present, and future in her eyes.

“It’s where it all started, Fitz. A lab. It’s where we met. Became friends. Best friends. Partners. Our first kiss.” Her voice is so sweet and delicate that he can’t help but smile. “I couldn’t imagine a more perfect spot for getting engaged.”

He nods in agreement, exhaling a sigh of relief before taking the ring and placing the empty box on the work bench next to them. He stretches out his hand and she places hers into his palm with a smile brightening her face.

He doesn’t look at her finger when he slips the ring on, instead he’s mesmerized by the love he sees in her eyes.

“It’s a double-helix. Our DNA strands combined,” he explains, even though his mind is halfway off through space and time already envisioning her on their wedding day.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, even though she never takes her eyes off his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, you'd think it'll get boring to reinvent the wheel and keep writing Framework and post-Framework fics, but it really doesn't :)
> 
> I hope it also doesn't get boring reading them!


End file.
